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“Unbelievable. Unbelievable.”
Tenna couldn’t bring himself to face the other man.
“Can you just [chillax], [Cathode]?”
Spamton moved his feet faster to try and keep up with the pace of the larger man, but it was futile. Despite him currently speaking to Spamton, Tenna was clearly trying to get away from him as soon as possible.
“God, you are so…” Tenna seethed, finally halting to a reluctant stop. Without turning around, he spoke.
“Can we continue this conversation away from any…”
He gestured to the nosy stage crew that seemed to be angled toward them, clearly trying to overhear what might be the next best gossip on set. Realizing the notice their boss had taken of them, the pippins all returned to their tasks. One whistled an idle melody that slowly fizzled out when it became the only sound in the room.
“Whatever you say, big guy,” Spamton said. Tenna knew he was rolling his eyes, even if from where he was looking he couldn’t actually see them.
Now Tenna was the one following as Spamton brushed past him, marching towards Tenna’s office. It annoyed the TV that Spamton had so much confidence striding into a space that belonged to him; though that seemed trivial at this point.
At least the salesman had enough sense to not go barging in, and he waited for Tenna at the office door.
Tenna sighed as he unlocked it, not looking down at Spamton.
Now they were both standing in front of a rather comfortable looking couch. Neither of them could bring themselves to sit down on it, though, lest they become smaller than the other.
“What was that about, Spamton?”
Even though his first and last name were exactly the same, Tenna had meant to use his last. He found that when he and Spamton argued, they generally stripped each other of their ‘first-name basis’ privilege.
“What was [what]?”
Tenna scoffed.
“Were you not just flirting— and—” he added, huffing, “getting handsy with a client? Several, actually?”
Despite Tenna’s raised voice and comparatively very intimidating stature, the mailman’s deliberate demeanor didn’t waiver even a little. Tenna wasn’t expecting it to. It took a lot more than scolding to crack someone like Spamton.
“Look, all it was was a [couple of words]! And… maybe some other not-so-savory contact, I’ll [give you that], but nothing more.”
Tenna wasn’t content with this response. He wasn’t sure why this was bothering him so much.
He always understood that Spamton was a sleazy ladies’ man from whispers he heard now and again leaving the lips of prattling associates. But he’d always ignored it when he’d seen it happen in person. He supposed tonight was when he’d finally had enough.
Tenna couldn’t tell himself why he always excused Spamton‘s behavior, but it was always much more of a conscious effort than he would’ve felt comfortable admitting.
“You do know we have an HR, right? I could easily report you right now,” Tenna threatened.
Spamton smiled.
“Do it. I [no] you won’t, Ant.”
First name. The fact that Spamton wasn’t actually angry at him just made Tenna feel more mad.
“Why?” Tenna started, his screen heating up. He didn’t like to feel as if he were losing, but unfortunately Spamton generally had that effect on him.
“You think I’m ok with you just… doing whatever you want? Getting to say whatever you want? Walking all over people like you own them, and not treating your job like a job?”
Spamton’s smile was genuine as he saw how frustrated Tenna was getting.
“Look, [Anteater], I’m just saying you need to lighten up a bit!”
“Lighten up!” Tenna exclaimed exasperatedly. “Lighten up,” he repeated. “Spamton,” Tenna signed, “When are you ever going to stop doing… all of this.”
Spamton’s smile wilted a bit, but still held.
“Doing what?”
Tenna pursed his lips inward.
“You know, all the messing around? …Don’t you ever want something permanent?”
Something shifted in Spamton‘s expression after the words exited Tenna’s mouth. His cocky grin had turned into him defensively baring his teeth, and a newfound rage had flashed across his eyes.
“That’s [rich] coming from you, Ant.”
Spamton laughed, but not because what he said was funny. It was the dreadful irony of it all.
“You…” Spamton spat, walking towards Tenna. “are alone. Always will be. You act so high and mighty, but you’re the one who spends the night in his office. You’re the one who sleeps ‘till one on Christmas, and you’re still the one who cares more about what other people think than I do.”
He paused.
“At least I’m actually [looking for love].”
Tenna swallowed any tears that could’ve bubbled up his throat. Spamton was painfully right. Tenna had no one.
“What about you, huh?” Spamton said. His smile had returned, but this time it was a challenge. He was daring Tenna to say something that would prove his point.
“Are you looking to settle down? Or are you [married] to your work?”
For a moment Tenna imagined what it would be like, away from all the lights.
No cameras, no dressing rooms, no show.
He could see it now—Tenna wearing an apron and pulling a pie out of the oven. (Perhaps he had taken up baking?) He was carrying it over to a dining table he’d helped assemble. The sounds of the city were nowhere to be heard, and the haphazard pile of stuff on the end of the table was topped with a book Tenna had read about half of in just one sitting. When Tenna called out, the man in the other room that came after was… Spamton.
Tenna shook the absurd vision from his brain and focused on winning the fight at hand.
“I don’t have to have planned out my life in order to tell you that trying to get with every woman you lay eyes on is a bad idea.”
Spamton shook his head.
“If you’re [jealous] you can just say it.”
“Jealous?” Tenna sputtered.
“Yeah,” Spamton said coldly. “I think so!”
He nodded in understanding. “I think that’s why you seem so obsessed with this. I mean, I’ve seen the way you look at me. The—“
“Stop,” Tenna said. “What you’re saying is insane. You’re drunk or… or something.”
Tenna backed away, only finding that the couch was there. His ass landed on the cushion, and now he was completely eye level with Spamton.
Spamton inched closer. Tenna wanted to move, he did, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to.
“You say settle for someone. Would you settle for me?”
This sort of forwardness was out of character for Spamton. Even he seemed surprised at the words as he said them.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Tenna said, searching for a reason to kick him out, to leave the office, to do anything to prevent what the TV was feeling at the moment.
Tenna admitted that he had certain… thoughts now and again about things he shouldn’t think about. All shameful of course, but the ones he had about the mailman even more so. Depraved situations he’d imagined in the past all played in his brain on loop as he looked Spamton in the eyes now. Tenna was never good at hiding his feelings, though. Spamton saw in him what he could possibly be considering at the moment, and, right after Tenna had taken a breath to speak again…
Spamton grabbed the sides of Tenna’s head and pressed his lips into the other man’s as hard as he could.
Tenna felt himself kiss back for just a few seconds before realizing what he was doing.
“No… I can’t…” Tenna panted, pulling away.
Spamton was still in control, but there was a sadness that crossed his face at the loss of contact.
“What happened to [being choosy]? Picking? Settling?”
“No… no…” Tenna said. “Not this. …Not us.”
“Why?“ Spamton more stated than asked, “‘Cause we’re not [picture perfect]? You think I don’t know that!?”
Tenna opened his mouth and closed it again. He still tasted Spamton. God, he hated how much he wanted more.
“[Newsflash], Tenna. You can forget about that [house husband] dream. You wanna be [bigshot]? This is what it is. Hiding in dark rooms and kissing ‘till your mouth falls off.”
Spamton let out a single, sad, chuckle.
“If it was different… who knows.”
“But it’s not,” Tenna responded, his screen black.
…
“[Not] in this story, Ant.”